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The Story of an Hour

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KnowingthatMrs.Mallardwasafflictedwithhearttrouble,greatcarewastakentobreaktoherasgently
aspossiblethenewsofherhusband'sdeath.ItwashersisterJosephinewhotoldher,inbroken
sentences;veiledhintsthatrevealedinhalfconcealing.Herhusband'sfriendRichardswasthere,too,near
her.Itwashewhohadbeeninthenewspaperofficewhenintelligenceoftherailroaddisasterwas
received,withBrentlyMallard'snameleadingthelistof"killed."Hehadonlytakenthetimetoassure
himselfofitstruthbyasecondtelegram,andhadhastenedtoforestallanylesscareful,lesstenderfriend
inbearingthesadmessage.

Shedidnothearthestoryasmanywomenhaveheardthesame,withaparalyzedinabilitytoacceptits
significance.Sheweptatonce,withsudden,wildabandonment,inhersister'sarms.Whenthestormof
griefhadspentitselfshewentawaytoherroomalone.Shewouldhavenoonefollowher.

Therestood,facingtheopenwindow,acomfortable,roomyarmchair.Intothisshesank,presseddownby
aphysicalexhaustionthathauntedherbodyandseemedtoreachintohersoul.

Shecouldseeintheopensquarebeforeherhousethetopsoftreesthatwereallaquiverwiththenew
springlife.Thedeliciousbreathofrainwasintheair.Inthestreetbelowapeddlerwascryinghiswares.
Thenotesofadistantsongwhichsomeonewassingingreachedherfaintly,andcountlesssparrowswere
twitteringintheeaves.

Therewerepatchesofblueskyshowinghereandtherethroughthecloudsthathadmetandpiledone
abovetheotherinthewestfacingherwindow.

Shesatwithherheadthrownbackuponthecushionofthechair,quitemotionless,exceptwhenasob
cameupintoherthroatandshookher,asachildwhohascrieditselftosleepcontinuestosobinits
dreams.

Shewasyoung,withafair,calmface,whoselinesbespokerepressionandevenacertainstrength.But
nowtherewasadullstareinhereyes,whosegazewasfixedawayoffyonderononeofthosepatchesof
bluesky.Itwasnotaglanceofreflection,butratherindicatedasuspensionofintelligentthought.

Therewassomethingcomingtoherandshewaswaitingforit,fearfully.Whatwasit?Shedidnotknow;it
wastoosubtleandelusivetoname.Butshefeltit,creepingoutofthesky,reachingtowardherthrough
thesounds,thescents,thecolorthatfilledtheair.

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Nowherbosomroseandfelltumultuously.Shewasbeginningtorecognizethisthingthatwas
approachingtopossessher,andshewasstrivingtobeatitbackwithherwill--aspowerlessashertwo
whiteslenderhandswouldhavebeen.

Whensheabandonedherselfalittlewhisperedwordescapedherslightlypartedlips.Shesaiditoverand
overunderherbreath:"free,free,free!"Thevacantstareandthelookofterrorthathadfolloweditwent
fromhereyes.Theystayedkeenandbright.Herpulsesbeatfast,andthecoursingbloodwarmedand
relaxedeveryinchofherbody.

Shedidnotstoptoaskifitwereorwerenotamonstrousjoythatheldher.Aclearandexaltedperception
enabledhertodismissthesuggestionastrivial.

Sheknewthatshewouldweepagainwhenshesawthekind,tenderhandsfoldedindeath;thefacethat
hadneverlookedsavewithloveuponher,fixedandgrayanddead.Butshesawbeyondthatbitter
momentalongprocessionofyearstocomethatwouldbelongtoherabsolutely.Andsheopenedand
spreadherarmsouttotheminwelcome.

Therewouldbenoonetoliveforherduringthosecomingyears;shewouldliveforherself.Therewould
benopowerfulwillbendinghersinthatblindpersistencewithwhichmenandwomenbelievetheyhavea
righttoimposeaprivatewilluponafellow-creature.Akindintentionoracruelintentionmadetheact
seemnolessacrimeasshelookeduponitinthatbriefmomentofillumination.

Andyetshehadlovedhim--sometimes.Oftenshehadnot.Whatdiditmatter!Whatcouldlove,the
unsolvedmystery,countforinfaceofthispossessionofself-assertionwhichshesuddenlyrecognizedas
thestrongestimpulseofherbeing!

"Free!Bodyandsoulfree!"shekeptwhispering.

Josephinewaskneelingbeforethecloseddoorwithherlipstothekeyhole,imploringforadmission.
"Louise,openthedoor!Ibeg,openthedoor--youwillmakeyourselfill.WhatareyoudoingLouise?For
heaven'ssakeopenthedoor."

"Goaway.Iamnotmakingmyselfill."No;shewasdrinkinginaveryelixiroflifethroughthatopen
window.

Herfancywasrunningriotalongthosedaysaheadofher.Springdays,andsummerdays,andallsortsof
daysthatwouldbeherown.Shebreathedaquickprayerthatlifemightbelong.Itwasonlyyesterdayshe
hadthoughtwithashudderthatlifemightbelong.

Shearoseatlengthandopenedthedoortohersister'simportunities.Therewasafeverishtriumphinher
eyes,andshecarriedherselfunwittinglylikeagoddessofVictory.Sheclaspedhersister'swaist,and
togethertheydescendedthestairs.Richardsstoodwaitingforthematthebottom.

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Someonewasopeningthefrontdoorwithalatchkey.ItwasBrentlyMallardwhoentered,alittle
travel-stained,composedlycarryinghisgrip-sackandumbrella.Hehadbeenfarfromthesceneof
accident,anddidnotevenknowtherehadbeenone.HestoodamazedatJosephine'spiercingcry;at
Richards'quickmotiontoscreenhimfromtheviewofhiswife.

ButRichardswastoolate.

Whenthedoctorscametheysaidshehaddiedofheartdisease--ofjoythatkills.

Annotations

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